My Love to give
by Schattengestalt
Summary: Sherlock has a surprise waiting for John, when his boyfriend comes home from work. It marks the start of a fantastic evening for both men, as they finally get the chance to spend some uninterrupted hours together. Johnlock. Trans*lock. Sequel to "The Life I live".


**Author Notes:** This story is part of my "Living" series and it won't make much sense to you, if you haven't read the former installments - namely "Foolish Words" and "The Life I live" - before you start on this one.^^ It's also very likely that this story will be the last one in this universe, since I feel like it is a good ending. No worries though, I still have ideas for more Trans*lock fictions, but none of them would fit into this universe.^^

That said, I should mention that a sex scene is part of this story. I have given my best to write it in such a way that it shouldn't be insulting or triggering for anyone, but if you feel like I didn't succeed in it, feel free to contact me and I'll see what I can do about it.

Enough from me. Enjoy the story and let me know what you think! :)

 **My Love to give**

It smelled... delicious.

John froze in the doorway of their flat and sniffed the air once more. No doubt, it smelled of roasted pork, onions, garlic and... mussels. A strange combination of smells. Still, it didn't hint on anything dangerous and that was what worried John the most as he hung up his coat and turned towards the kitchen, in search of his beloved genius. He just hoped that Sherlock hadn't invented some new kind of poison that smelled like a delicious meal to fool the victims. The last time, John had checked, Sherlock hadn't appeared interested in ridding the world of his brother's existence, but a poison with such a mouth-watering smell would fool even Mycroft.

A grim smile flickered over John's face as he imagined how the elder Holmes choked to death on a piece of expensive meat. It would serve the wanker right to die, while indulging in his only real passion, after everything he had put his brother through during the last twenty years. Sherlock had only shared bits and pieces with John, but it was enough for John to wish that he got another chance to punch Mycroft... for at least an hour straight.

"Ah, you are home," Sherlock's voice sounded from the kitchen. "Fantastic, you can open the wine."

"Wine?" John frowned as he stepped into the kitchen and his breath caught for a second as he took in the scene before him. The worktop was covered in the peels of onions and garlic. A pot was placed on one of the hotplates and gave off part of the delicious smell. The oven was on and John made out their roasting tray in it. A bottle of expensive looking red wine was sitting on the kitchen table and there were small piles of dark powder on the far end of the table. Cocoa, John realised as he dipped his finger into the mess and tasted the powder carefully with the tip of his tongue. That meant...

"You are cooking!"

Sherlock turned to him with a raised eyebrow and leaned back against the kitchen counter, before he switched the hotplate off. "Obviously. What else would I do in the kitchen?"

They both stared at each other for a second, before a giggle escaped John's control and Sherlock's lips tipped up in an answering grin. "Oh alright, but I do know that the kitchen can be used for other things besides experiments."

"And when did you come to this realisation?" John still chuckled as he retrieved the dishes - bowls and plates - from the cupboard and even located the corkscrew, in one of the drawers. "I haven't seen you cook, since we came to live together. I didn't even know that you could cook."

"Don't be ridiculous, John," Sherlock huffed and reached for one of the bowls to serve the soup - onion soup, John suspected. "Cooking is almost like chemistry. Of course, I know how to do it, I just choose not to waste my time on it, when there are so many restaurants nearby. Besides," Sherlock added with a sigh as he handed John the bowl and filled the second one. "My family was always clear on the fact that cooking is a task for women only."

John almost choked on the red wine as he took a sip from his glass to determine if it was fine. He had believed that Sherlock's family was _merely_ transphobic, but it sounded like they were also misogynistic, if they harbored such feelings about household chores. No wonder that Sherlock never felt inclined to lift a hand in the flat, when John decided, it was time for some much needed cleaning. He had probably been forced to help his mother with the household chores, while Mycroft was allowed to play... or do whatever children like Mycroft did.

"You know that I don't see it like that?" John handed Sherlock his wine glass as they both sat down at the table and the scent of creamy, onion soup made John's mouth water in anticipation.

"Since you clearly identify as male and yet you still prepare meals on a daily base and nurture me like a mother hen, I would be surprised if you did." Sherlock clinked glasses with John and threw him a teasing grin.

John grinned back and took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted as delicious as it smelled and he couldn't stop himself from humming contently. He doubted that he had ever eaten such a perfect soup before and it took some silent minutes of eating, until John thought of the one question that he should have asked right away. "Is there a special reason for this." John gestured to the soup and the promising tray in the oven. "Not that I complain, but... I haven't forgotten my own birthday again, have I?" It had happened last year and Sherlock had needed to convince John that the date had in fact been his birth date, until he had accepted the gift from his friend. But no, that couldn't be it this time. It was March and John's birthday was in October, while Sherlock's birthday was in January and...

"I just felt like it," Sherlock shrugged and cocked his head to the side as he gifted John with one of his rare smiles. "We have been working on one case after another for the past month and we didn't have any free time to ourselves and I just..." A light blush crept into Sherlock's cheeks as he stopped himself midsentence and the penny finally dropped.

"It's a date," John breathed in awe and the color in Sherlock's cheeks intensified as he fidgeted with the spoon. "I just thought, that it would be nice to... stay in and spend some time together." Sherlock dropped his eyes to his half-eaten soup. "We have been... together for a little over a month and we haven't really done anything... _couplish._ "

"You mean besides kissing, cuddling and snogging on the couch." John swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat as he reached across the table for Sherlock's hand and squeezed it lightly. "I think the dinner is a lovely idea and... if you feel like we don't do enough couple things, you can just say so."

"I don't really know about that." Clear blue eyes, met John's confused gaze across the table and Sherlock clarified. "Couple things. I have gained most experiences from one-night stands and... Victor was mostly only interested in sex, when we met at his flat, during my university years. He only went out with me, when he wanted to show me off. I only learned later that... he told everyone that I was his... _girlfriend._ "

"I would never do that to you," John whispered hoarsely and took a large swig from his wine to moisten his dry throat. "You are my... boyfriend, partner, lover, whatever term you prefer. But I would never want you to... change who you are." John swallowed his anger and the question where this Victor lived now, when a soft smile lit up Sherlock's whole face at these words. John would gladly punch every idiot that had ever given Sherlock the feeling that what he was, wasn't enough for them, but now wasn't the time to allow his anger to rule his mind. This evening was for them alone and John would be damned if he did anything to spoil their time together. "We will figure out together what we consider to be _couplish_ activities, then. For now, I would very much like to know what's hidden away in the oven."

"Roasted pork with blue mussels in white wine sauce with potato edges. It's a Portuguese specialty." Sherlock grinned, when John licked his lips at the description. "I also have chocolate flan with rum raisins for pudding."

"If that's what I get, whenever we have to work five cases that count as a seven or higher, in a month, then I'm all for it. But maybe not for the next couple of weeks," John added hastily, when Sherlock's eyes lit up at the prospect. "I need some time to catch my breath and I'm very interested in doing... _couplish_ things with you." He winked and Sherlock chuckled as he finished the last of his soup and got up to retrieve the main dish from the oven. "I'm sure we will come up with something to do, in this case."

The scent of roasted pork and mussels filled the air, when Sherlock carried the tray to the table and took off the lid. It was mouth watering. John inhaled deeply, before he helped himself to a large portion and heaped meat and mussels on Sherlock's plate as well. "Mother hen," Sherlock muttered fondly, but he didn't complain, when he tucked into his portion with gusto.

John grinned and took a sip from his wine, when he noticed something that made him halt in his movements for a second. Sherlock wore his sexy, purple shirt. His sexy, purple shirt and obviously a binder underneath, from the looks of it. Somehow, this was unexpected. Sherlock hadn't worn a binder at their flat - when they didn't have anything on - since John had learned that his friend was transgender. For a second, John considered asking about it, but then decided against it with an inward shrug. He had told Sherlock himself that he could wear what he wanted at home and if his friend felt like wearing a binder today, it wasn't any of John's business. It would only be his business, if Sherlock risked his health, but John didn't see any signs for that. Therefore he dug into his meal with the enthusiasm of a starving man and didn't think about binders again, when he wondered if it was possible to get Sherlock to cook more often, without them having to risk their lives on a daily basis.

OOO

The evening was a success.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair with a content smile, after they had finished with the main course and enjoyed the rich, red wine as he stroked John's hand with his thumb, where their fingers were still intertwined on the table. It would be a lie, if Sherlock said that he had predicted such a perfect outcome, when he had started to prepare dinner this afternoon. He had hoped for a success, yes, but he couldn't have been sure that John would enjoy the surprise. After all, they hadn't discussed what being a couple entailed for them. The physical side was rather obvious as were the involved feelings on both sides, but... Sherlock hadn't known about other rules. If there were any rules at all.

Obviously though, they would just do what they both enjoyed and surprise meals for dinner seemed to count as such, although Sherlock doubted that he would cook again for some time. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the challenge of creating a perfect meal, but... it brought bad memories with it.

 _His mother forcing Sherlock to wear a pink apron and telling him that a good wife had to look presentable, even while she was preparing a meal._

 _Mycroft stealing some of the freshly baked scones and being ordered out of the kitchen, because it wasn't a place for_ _ **boys**_ _to be._

 _Sherlock wandering into the kitchen to get a glass of water and being forced to help his mother with dinner, although he had needed to finish his homework and was informed that girls didn't need to be successful at school as long as they were good at doing household chores._

Sherlock grimaced inwardly at the hateful images that floated through his Mind Palace, before he managed to push them away. He knew that John was confused why he was wearing a binder at home and Sherlock was also thankful that he hadn't asked about it. Sherlock didn't want to discuss the sudden urge to be as... _manly_ as possible, when he had started to prepare dinner. The hateful wave of body dysphoria had passed by now and Sherlock was more than grateful for it. His plans for this evening would have been ruined, if he hadn't felt comfortable in his own skin.

"Sherlock?" He glanced up at John's worried tone and smiled at his partner. "I was just wondering, if you would like pudding now or," Sherlock nudged John's leg with his right foot. "If you would prefer something else."

Sherlock watched fascinated how John's Adam's apple popped when he swallowed, while his pupils dilated at the same time. "W-what did you have in mind?"

"Nothing specific yet." Sherlock licked his lips and grinned when John's eyes followed the movement with rapt attention. "I thought we could come up with something together. In my bedroom."

A gasp escaped John's lips and then he nodded eagerly as he got to his feet and walked around the table to capture Sherlock's mouth in a heated kiss. A kiss that was filled with longing, desire and tenderness at the same time. Sherlock's heart jumped in anticipation against his ribcage as he closed his arms around John and drew him closer. It almost ended in disaster, when John deepened the kiss and Sherlock forgot for a second that he was still sitting on a chair and leaned backwards. It was only thanks to John's fast reflexes that they didn't end up on the ground as he gripped Sherlock around the waist to prevent a painful fall.

"We should probably change the location," John breathed against his lips accompanied by a small chuckle and Sherlock nodded in agreement.

They managed to make their way to his bedroom, without bumping into anything, even though they giggled and stumbled around like teenagers in the hallway. Sherlock dragged John into his bedroom and closed the door behind them with a click. He had left the lamp on the nightstand burning, when he had prepared for the most desirable outcome of this evening and the room was bathed in a dim light, when Sherlock let go of John's hand and reached for the buttons of his shirt.

His fingers trembled with nerves as he fought with the first button and Sherlock was about to rip the offending piece of fabric right off, when John's warm hands closed over his and brought his fumbling to a halt. "Shall I?"

Sherlock nodded and watched fascinated as John popped open one button after the other. He was so calm and Sherlock felt even more foolish for his nervous display. For Christ's sake, he was a grown man with an average amount of sexual experience for his age. He shouldn't be this nervous about the first time with his new partner. No matter that he loved John like he hadn't loved anyone before him and wanted everything to be perfect. It didn't justify...

"Do you want to keep your binder on or shall I take it off?" Sherlock blinked himself back into the present at the question. John had completely unbuttoned his shirt and tucked the hem out of his trousers. Sherlock took a shaking breath and steeled himself as he shrugged out of his shirt and then took the binder off in a practiced movement. His lungs contradicted in relief as his chest was freed from its restricting prison.

"You can touch them," Sherlock murmured as John's gaze swept over his chest. "Just... don't squeeze or knead them. Also, it would be better if you didn't suck on the nipples or pinch them and... Sorry, I guess it's a turn off to set such limits." Sherlock averted his gaze and stared at his feet. Most of his former lovers had told him that they didn't want to be limited in what they could or couldn't do or had just ignored his wishes. Victor had been understanding enough at first, until he had started to treat Sherlock like a girl, even in bed. The thought reminded Sherlock why he had sworn off of all sexual activities - which he couldn't perform on his own - a few years ago. Maybe, he shouldn't have entertained the thought of starting again, but he had thought that it would be different with John. And maybe, it would be, on some level, but he doubted that his partner would enjoy being told what he wasn't supposed to do.

"I don't like my nipples sucked either." John broke the silence and stepped into the circle of Sherlock's arms. Their naked chests pressed together and Sherlock spared a glance to the ground, where John's jumper and shirt lay in messy heap. "You can also touch my scar or kiss it, but don't prod the skin around it. It's... I might get a flashback if you do." Sherlock blinked down at John, who smiled warmly up at him from where he leaned his head against Sherlock's chest. "It's good to tell your lover what you can't stand in bed. I would rather figure out what you enjoy the most, instead of making you uncomfortable with something I do."

Sherlock released a breath, he hadn't been aware of holding and tightened his arms around John. His friend understood him. John didn't hold it against Sherlock that some things were off limits, but he was willing to abide by his wishes. More so, he even treated Sherlock's limits like it was normal to set them.

"It is normal," John whispered with a strained voice and Sherlock wondered if he had spoken out loud. "Everyone likes different things, it's fine to set some hard limits, if certain things make you uncomfortable. Sex is about fun and trust and taking care of each other, it's not meant to be a performance to only one partner's liking."

"I don't like vaginal penetration," Sherlock blurted out, before he could change his mind about it. "I mean, fingers and tongue - if you like - are fine, but not... anal sex is fine though."

John neither huffed in exasperation nor gazed around the room, in search of the lube. Instead, he pressed a kiss right over Sherlock's erratic beating heart and nodded in understanding. "I'm fine with however you want to touch me, just... don't put too much pressure on my left leg. It acts up if you do, although it's perfectly fine... physically." A shameful heat rose in John's cheeks at the mention of his psychosomatic limp, but Sherlock didn't comment on it. Instead, he leaned down to seal John's lips with his own and drew him backwards towards the bed.

By the time, they tumbled onto the mattress, the heat in John's face wasn't due to embarrassment anymore as they fumbled with the belts and buttons of their trousers. Sherlock laughed when John only managed to kick his trousers and pants off at the third try. John chuckled in return, when Sherlock almost fell off the bed, in an attempt to take off his socks and trousers at once. They were still grinning, when they finally lay face to face on the bed and Sherlock only then realised that he was completely naked. He had managed to take all of his clothes off, without a second of insecurity. And even now, Sherlock didn't fear that John would reject him, because of his physical appearance. His friend knew about Sherlock and he had chosen to be with him, therefore it was highly unlikely that he would be disappointed by what he was going to find. Of course, the knowledge that Sherlock was transgender hadn't stopped some of his one-nights stand to act...rudely, but this was John and he...

"God, you are beautiful."

Sherlock's eyes snapped up to meet John's and his breath escaped him in a rush as he noticed the awe mirrored in his friend's gaze. No one had ever looked at Sherlock like that. Like he was the most beautiful creature on the planet. Like it was fine... No, more than fine... _right_ for his body to be like this.

"Come here," Sherlock whispered hoarsely and drew John as close as possible, before he pressed their lips together in an openmouthed kiss. The muscles of John's back flexed under Sherlock's exploring fingers and a low moan fell from his lips, when Sherlock grasped his arse to bring their lower bodies closer together. John's cock twitched against his hipbone and an answering heat pooled low between Sherlock's legs. He threw his right leg over John's hip, when skilled fingers stroked between the curls of his pubic hair and smeared the pre-come - that was leaking out of Sherlock's opening - over his heated flesh.

"Good?" John whispered as he stroked up to his cock - _clitoris_ , most would say, but Sherlock didn't bow to the public opinion about his genitals - and teased it with a slick finger. "Yes," Sherlock breathed and gaped when John placed openmouthed kisses onto the sensitive skin of his throat, while his fingers kept on stroking him slowly.

"Move with me," John ordered in a breathy whisper and a second later, Sherlock found himself on his back, with his lover seated between his legs. With anyone else, Sherlock would have felt vulnerable - open for judgment and cruelty - in such a position, but with John, he just felt... safe. Desired. Loved. Turned on.

"Look at you." John placed a kiss in the center of Sherlock's chest and rubbed his right cheek against the soft bump of flesh there. "You are even more beautiful like this. All flushed and longing for more." John placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's right nipple and rubbed the head of his cock with the tip of his finger.

"God, John!"

Sherlock grasped at John's shoulders - avoiding the scar tissues on his left one - and dug his fingernails into the skin as John pushed the tip of his index finger into him, while he kept on stroking Sherlock's cock with his other hand. Kisses were pressed to his navel and below, while John's skilled fingers played his body like an instrument. All conscious thoughts fled from Sherlock's mind, when his lover bent his finger upwards inside him and pushed against the knob of raw nerve endings there. Sherlock threw his head back against the pillow. Only able to spread his legs as wide as humanly possibly, while John stroked, pushed, kissed and... Sherlock gasped and clenched the fabric of the sheets as a wave of pure lust surged through his body and his mind went completely blank.

When he got the control over his limbs back, Sherlock reached one shaking arm out to card his fingers through John's short hair, where his head rested on Sherlock's belly. "John." It was the only word that he was able to form and his lover crawled up his body, until he was able to place a tender kiss on Sherlock's lips.

"Amazing. You are amazing." John stroked a sweaty curl from his forehead and Sherlock finally managed to blink his eyes open and meet his lover's heated gaze. "You," Sherlock started and reached for John's still hard cock, but his lover caught his hand and shook his head. "Give yourself a few minutes to come down. I'm fine for now." The protest died on Sherlock's lips, when John kissed him deeply and Sherlock admitted defeat for now as he melted into the kiss. Later, he vowed to himself though, when John sucked on his lower lip, he would give his lover the blowjob of his life.

OOO

John couldn't stop smiling as he snuggled up to Sherlock under the covers. He was exhausted, sticky, felt absolutely boneless and his belly would spot hickeys in the morning. To sum it up, John had just received the best blowjob of his life... and that said something.

"You're brilliant," John whispered and nipped playfully at Sherlock's earlobe, when his lover's only response was an affirmative hum. "I don't only mean the blowjob, although it was spectacular." That got him a low chuckle in response, when Sherlock turned on his side and threw an arm and a leg across John's body to hold him close. "If you keep on praising me like this, John, it might go to my head."

"Yes, because you are so modest," John teased and nudged Sherlock's side with his finger to tear a huff of laugher from his lover. "Still, I mean it." John kissed Sherlock's jaw. "You're brilliant. Your mind works like no one else's does. You are beautiful and funny - when you want to be. You are an awesome cook and... I'm just amazed that you have chosen me."

The words just tumbled from John's lips, without the necessary censorship from his brain, which hadn't yet recovered completely from the rush of endorphins. Sherlock froze next to him and John clapped his mouth shut with a an audible click. _Well done, Watson,_ he scolded himself as he glanced anxiously at his shocked lover, _you just had to ruin everything with your stupid confession. You know perfectly well that Sherlock doesn't take well to talking about his feelings and you just had to..._

"Y-you," Blue eyes bore into his and John forced himself to hold Sherlock's gaze as his lover licked his lips nervously. "You really mean that. You truly think that I'm... that I shouldn't change."

It took John a second to procees Sherlock's words, but when he did, John found himself with a lump in his throat as he took in the surprised expression on his lover's face. Obviously, Sherlock wasn't shocked about John's confession... at least not for the reason, he had thought at first. John blinked against the sudden moisture in his eyes, as he imagined that no one - to this date - had ever called Sherlock any of these things. No one had ever told this incredible man how awesome he was. It was... cruel and terrible and John could only hide his face in the crook of Sherlock's shoulder as he fought to regain his composure.

"John?" Arms closed tentatively around him and a hand stroked along his spine as John took a shaky breath to calm down. He hated everyone, who had ever given Sherlock the feeling that he wasn't _enough_ , in any way. Sherlock was more than enough, he was perfect in his own way and... John exhaled slowly and pushed himself up on his forearms to look down in Sherlock's worried gaze. "Of course, I mean it. Every word of it. I wouldn't want you any other way - although I don't fancy severed fingers in my teacup - and I... I love you, Sherlock. All of you, even if you drive me mad sometimes, I love you."

For a second, John feared that Sherlock would pass out, when his eyes widened comically at the confession, before a tentative smile turned the corners of his lips upwards. "I love you, too, John. Even if your mind is annoyingly slow, sometimes..."

"Hey!" John pinched Sherlock's earlobe in mocked warning and his lover chuckled quietly. "What? It's true, your mind works slower than mine does, but you think faster than most people do. That's a compliment."

John shook his head ruefully, but he couldn't keep the smile from his face as he nudged Sherlock's nose with his own. "You will have to work on your compliments, if you want them to get you anywhere."

"It's good that I don't have any plans for the near future, then. I only want to stay in bed with you for the rest of the night." There was a hopeful note in Sherlock's voice and John wondered how often his former lovers had ignored such a wish. Had they just left after... No, he wouldn't go down this path. It was in the past and John couldn't change what had happened back then. He could only make sure that Sherlock would never have to experience such things again. John settled down next to Sherlock and bedded his head on his lover's shoulder. "I don't want to be anywhere else either," he murmured sleepily and sighed in contentment, when Sherlock's arm came up around his shoulder and held him close.

"Then stay." Soft lips placed a kiss on the top of his head.

"Yes, always," John whispered back and closed his eyes to the even beat of his lover's heart as he swore to himself that he would make sure that Sherlock knew exactly how much he was loved. Every day. For as long as he lived. Always.


End file.
